


and still we stand tall

by lavenderseaslug



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9664922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderseaslug/pseuds/lavenderseaslug
Summary: Adoration is a nine-letter word for love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/gifts).



> Title from "The Final Countdown" because I'm a dumb human. (Prompt at the bottom)

Serena had never watched Countdown before Jason came to live with her, not the real one, anyway, with regular people and Nick Hewer. She isn’t really one for word and number games, proving herself much more adept at quiz shows and banal trivia, which satisfies Jason for the most part.

But she spends her weeknights watching episodes with him, only half paying attention and scrambling to find a four letter word as the clock runs out so Jason won’t be completely put out with her for not trying. She struggles far more with the maths, and Jason always crows his victory, holding his pad aloft when he’s gotten the target number.

Bernie spends a lot of time at their house now, dinners and Sunday lunches and World’s Strongest Man marathons, but always begs off if Jason suggests they watch Countdown, suggests a documentary instead. Serena assumes that Bernie is equally as terrible at Countdown as she is, and pushes for Jason to acquiesce to Bernie’s requests, which he usually does, with only minimal fuss.

One night, however, Bernie gets off her shift late, and rings the doorbell at Serena’s while they’re in the middle of an episode of Countdown. Serena pauses it with a quick word to Jason to go easy on Bernie. “She might be worse than me, dear,” she says before going to answer the door.

“I doubt that’s possible,” Jason quips back and Serena reminds herself not to take offense, though her competitive hackles rise ever so slightly. She only gives him a beatific smile and leaves the room.

Bernie’s wet, her hair dripping, having forgotten her umbrella at home, and Serena stops herself from telling Bernie she should just keep one in her work bag at all times, and instead ushers her in and upstairs to change into some of Serena’s sweats. She colors slightly, thinking of Bernie naked in her bedroom, toweling herself dry before donning an old Harvard sweatshirt, wearing sweatpants with the top rolled down so they sit snug at her hips. Bernie knows where everything is, has spent the night numerous times before, so Serena joins Jason back on the sofa and he presses play, just in time for the next letters round.

 

_N A A I A I G T S_

 

Jason says he’s got a six and Serena says, for the third time that night, that she’s got a four. “Against,” Jason says, matching with a contestant on the television and holds up his paper so Serena can see he wasn’t making it up.

“All I could see was ‘sing,’” she says, shrugging.

“Could’ve added the ‘t’ for ‘sting,’ Bernie’s voice comes from behind Serena, and she feels her place a kiss to the top of her head, her hands sliding along her arms before vanishing, and Bernie comes around the couch in full view, Harvard sweatshirt and all. “Budge up, make room for a tired trauma surgeon,” she says, and Serena willingly shifts slightly and Bernie tucks herself into the corner of the sofa, resting an elbow on the back, letting her hand drift to Serena’s hair. Serena thinks she’ll never be able to focus on the game now.

“Bernie, you’ve never played Countdown with us before,” Jason says. “Auntie Serena says we don’t keep score, but I do. She’s got zero, which is easy to remember. I’ve got thirty points, though. You’re just in time for the numbers round.”

Bernie hums softly, and Serena looks at her apologetically. “Don’t feel like you have to play. Jason will be just as happy crushing my spirit alone, no need to suffer if you don’t want to,” she says under her breath and Bernie smiles, soft and sweet.

“I’ll stay, if that’s all right,” she says, and Jason hands her a pencil and some spare paper.

 _Four small numbers, two large ones_ comes the request from the television and Jason sits, his pencil poised to write.

 

_6 8 3 2 25 50_

 

440 comes up as the target and the music starts and Bernie writes something down, Jason scribbling away. Serena just stares at the numbers, tries to remember her maths lessons, but all she can see is that fifty times eight is four hundred, and there she gets stuck.

The clock runs out and Jason says, quite loudly, “I’ve got 441!” Bernie glances down at her paper, looks up at Serena, who only shrugs.

“Yeah, I’ve got that too, Jason,” Bernie says, but Serena sees Bernie’s paper, sees some addition, some multiplication, and then sees 440 circled at the bottom of it all. Bernie hides her paper before Serena can say anything.

Rachel Riley goes over a solution on the television, and Jason tsks at himself for not getting it. Bernie’s crumpled up her paper, wadded it between her and Serena on the couch and waits for the letters round to start.

Bernie is abysmal at the words portion, giving Serena a run for her money at being worst on the couch. Jason’s racking up points, and Serena can only shake her head in bemusement. The final round starts, and the letters go up.

 

_C T A I Z G A E I_

 

“Act,” Bernie mutters and Serena nudges her. “Zit.”

“No crosstalk!” Jason reprimands, and Serena feels Bernie shudder with laughter next to her, her face buried in Serena’s shoulder.

“Agate,” Jason pronounces. “I read about them in one of my geology books - we don’t have them here in England, but I don’t remember why.”

“We’ve only got three letter words down here, Jason. Five points to you. That was a hard round,” Serena says. Bernie’s still tucked into Serena’s shoulder, her hand still tousling Serena’s hair and Serena feels more relaxed than she’s ever felt during an episode of Countdown. She’ll have to demand Bernie stays for them in the future.

It’s the final numbers round and Jason is almost on the edge of the couch, his rear end just barely touching the cushions.

 

_4 10 5 9 8 50_

 

The target is 756, and Bernie’s scratching at her pad again, doing more work than she’s done for any of the letter rounds. She stops after half the time has gone, puts her pencil down and watches Jason, whose tongue is in his mouth.

“Got it, have you?” Serena asks, and Jason’s head flicks up to look at Bernie as the clock runs out.

“Uh. Maybe. Not quite - not quite sure,” Bernie answers, trying to hide her paper from Serena’s view. Serena’s craning her neck, but then Jason stands and snatches the pad from Bernie’s lap.

“You did, you did get it. Are you good at maths, Bernie?” Jason asks, handing the pad back and Bernie gives a one-shouldered shrug.

“Lucky guess, I suppose,” is all she says, but Jason doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. He still sits back down, though, and watches Bernie all throughout the final letters round. Serena can see she’s red under his scrutiny.

 

_P O C K W R A T H_

 

It’s the conundrum round, finally, and Serena is about to suggest to Bernie that maybe “pockwrath” is an actual word, that they’d seen a case of it in AAU earlier that week, but Bernie is focused on the screen, her pencil rubber sitting against her lip. She writes something down, then, all of a sudden, but doesn’t say anything. Jason’s still thinking, but then his eyebrows go up and he says, “Patchwork!” as though it were obvious. Serena slants her eyes down and sees that’s what Bernie’s written on her pad as well. She’s about to say something when Bernie crumples the paper again.

“Good job, Jason,” is all she says. “You’ve trounced us both.”

 

\- - -

 

Serena bids goodnight to Jason for the both of them, pushes Bernie towards the stairs. Bernie’s holding her scrap paper in one hand, tucked in the large pocket of the hoodie.

After they’ve both brushed their teeth, taking turns spitting in the sink and rinsing, Bernie shucks off the sweats, more comfortable to just sleep in her knickers and a t-shirt. She slides under the covers, gravitates towards Serena’s body, would rather be warmed by Serena than by any pajamas. Serena’s hand finds the bare skin of Bernie’s back, rubs her just so, and Bernie murmurs a small noise of contentment, though she knows Serena’s about to ask her a question she doesn’t really want to answer.

“You let Jason win,” Serena says, proving Bernie right. Bernie sighs before moving onto her side, Serena’s hand sliding with the movement, resting on Bernie’s hip. Bernie likes it, likes that Serena is so tactile, that she likes to be connected to Bernie whenever she can be.

“Mmm,” is all she says, thinking of the crumpled paper in the hoodie. She knows Serena won’t let this go, that it’ll come up another time. But she doesn’t really know why she let him win, except she likes the look of victory on his face, feels like he might not get to feel that way enough.

Serena seems to know that’s all she’s going to get out Bernie for the night. “Better not let him catch you,” she says and tweaks Bernie’s side for emphasis. Bernie twitches, slightly ticklish and prods Serena’s shoulder. Serena lifts her head from the pillow, and Bernie obliges her by placing a kiss on her waiting mouth. Satisfied, at least at this particular moment, Serena drops her head, bunches the pillow up, and closes her eyes. Bernie feels relief at having escaped a longer conversation - she’s still not good at verbalizing everything Serena wishes she would, but figures that’s some of the adventure of a relationship. She falls asleep with Serena’s hand in the dip of her waist, her breath warm on Bernie’s neck.

 

\- - -

 

Jason practically demands that Bernie come over for Countdown again and all Serena can do is say that she’ll ask. Unfortunately, the first opportunity comes after a long day, with too much blood and too much death, and she thinks that the last thing Bernie wants, most likely, is to come over and watch her nephew be overly competitive about a television game show.

But she asks anyway, when they’re in their shared office with the door closed. Bernie’s sitting, head down, hands folded across the back of her head, the picture of defeat. She’s changed out of her scrubs, her hair no longer tied back, fanning out around her fingers.

“Darling,” Serena starts, and Bernie looks up at the endearment, her eyes tired, though the corners turn up slightly. They don’t sweet talk each other, much, just a few small words here and there, used for maximum effect, and Serena thinks she’s chosen this moment rather well. “Jason was wondering if you’d come over for Countdown again. I know it’s been a tiring shift and I know you must just want to go to yours and shower off this day, but I told him I’d ask. Don’t feel like you have to say yes, if you’d rather kip off home.”

“If you don’t want me to come over, you’d need only say,” Bernie answers, leaning back in her chair, and Serena shakes her head. “Well, don’t start an invitation with all the reasons I don’t need to accept it.” But she’s smiling, so Serena knows she isn’t really in trouble. Bernie stands, shouldering her bag and leans her hip against the desk. “I’ll come,” she says and Serena stands too, bumps Bernie’s shoulder, because they don’t hold hands on hospital grounds, and they leave together.

It’s fish and chips night, so they stop by the shop to pick up Jason’s usual order, and Serena tells Bernie that there’s a curry in the fridge if she’d rather that than fish. Serena never stops to think about how natural this all feels, to leave work with Bernie and get dinner for her nephew and to go home. How seamlessly Bernie fits into her world. She isn’t prone to self-examination when things feel right, just accepts them and moves on. Bernie feels right.

Jason commandeers the center seat of the couch that night, and Serena knows he’s going to be watching Bernie’s answers. Bernie sits rigidly, pad and pencil in hand, and Serena leans back in the corner, grateful to be free of Jason’s scrutiny for at least this hour. She rests her hand on the back of the sofa, idling tapping her fingers in time with the clock. The letters round starts and Bernie takes her time writing down the letters, filling for time. She comes up with a four-letter word, and Jason crows his victory with a seven, doing even better than the contestants.

Bernie isn’t good at the letters, she isn’t faking. She again can only come up with a four-letter word to Jason’s eight letters. But her arms goes up to the back of the sofa as well, her fingers tangling with Serena’s behind Jason’s oblivious head. Bernie smiles at Serena, drops a sly wink at her, and then sighs as the number round is announced.

 _1 10 4 75 50 100_ is placed on the board, with 391 as the target. “That’s an easy one,” Bernie says before she can stop herself, and Jason looks over at her, eyes wide.

“You solved it already?” he asks, because all he’s done is write down the numbers. Bernie bites her lip, and Serena can see that she’s withdrawing. She shrugs, and leans back against the cushions, trying to play it off. The timer runs out and Jason is still looking at Bernie. “You _are_ good at the numbers,” he says.

Bernie still says nothing, though that’s never the right answer where Jason is concerned. He harumphs and turns back to the television, letting Bernie alone. He doesn’t look over at her for the rest of the evening, and she doesn’t pick up her pad again.

 

\- - -

 

When they’re upstairs, Bernie knows that Serena’s decided it’s finally time to press the issue. “Why don’t you let him know how good you are at maths?” she says while they’re changing. Bernie’s brought her own pajamas this night, had planned to wake up at Serena’s in the morning. She runs a hand through her hair, leaving some curls sticking out at odd angles. Serena reaches over to smooth them out, lets her hand rest against Bernie’s cheek. Silence may not be the right answer for Jason, but it’s what works for Bernie, giving her the time to decide what it is she wants to say.

“I just want him to have a win every once in a while,” she says after a bit, knows it's a bit condescending, even if it is well-intentioned, and turns away, busying herself with the duvet, the pillows, the bedside lamp. Anything to not look at Serena’s eyes, softened with love. Sometimes she can’t quite take all of Serena’s affection, has to remind herself she deserves it. She can feel Serena behind her, didn’t hear her move.

“Bernie,” she says, low and sweet. “That’s very lovely of you. But I think you’re making him angrier by letting him beat you.” Bernie knows it’s true, thinks he’d still win because he’ll best her at the letter rounds every time. She turns into Serena’s waiting hug. “It really is very lovely. But I think when you come over tomorrow night for Countdown, you’d better bring your competitive side out to play.”

Bernie starts to protest that she isn’t competitive without thinking, silenced only by Serena’s quirked eyebrow and her knowing gaze. She shuts her mouth and gets into bed. Serena follows suit, and they tangle around each other, a Gordian knot neither one ever wants solved. “We’ll have to stop at mine after work so I can get some more clothes,” she says, her voice already thick and drowsy. Serena just hums her assent, and Bernie feels the vibration against her nose, nuzzles into Serena’s neck further.

 

\- - -

 

True to form, Jason wants Bernie to play Countdown with him again, and Serena thinks he must see her as some sort of new challenge. It’s not enough to just play against the contestants, he now has a real live person that gives him a run for his money. She’s relieved, at least, to not be a constant source of disappointment to him, to pass off this load of Countdown to someone else.

As they’re eating dinner, Jason is practically thrumming with excitement to play with Bernie. He’s made her promise that she’ll try as hard as she can, and both Serena and Jason know that Bernie is ridiculously principled and will never back down on an agreement. Jason even makes her shake his hand to seal the deal.

Jason tells Serena she has to sit on the overstuffed chair next to the couch, that he doesn’t want her distracting Bernie from the game. Serena looks sharply at Bernie, who is stifling a snort and looking up at the ceiling, a perfect picture of pretend innocence. She settles in with her glass of wine and fondly looks at Bernie and Jason, thinks she’s done something quite well to have these two in her life now.

 

_O E I G O E S F T_

 

Bernie writes down the letters carefully, Jason hastily scribbling. “I’ve got a seven,” Bernie says rather proudly when the clock runs out and Jason’s smiling his knowing smile. “I’ve got an eight.” It turns out that his word, “goofiest,” is the best that could’ve been gotten, and he wears that as an extra badge of honor. He marks down eight tick marks at the top of a scoresheet he’s placed on the coffee table.

 

_A L R T A S O N M_

 

They’ve each got a seven on this one, and Serena sees that Bernie is surprised at even herself for keeping up with Jason. He announces his word, “mortals,” and when Bernie says she’s got the same, he makes her show him her piece of paper. Then he dutifully marks down the points, and notes loudly that he’s still ahead.

It’s time for numbers, and Serena can see they’re both vibrating with tension. Bernie glances over at Serena, as if to ask if she’s sure, if she should really do the best she can. Serena nods, takes another sip of Shiraz, isn’t exactly sure how this will all play out in the end, but thinks it can only be a good thing for Jason to be challenged.

 _1 9 8 2 100 25_ gets placed on the board and 669 is announced as the target. Jason chews on the end of his pencil. Bernie’s tapping her fingers, then starts writing as fast as she can, crossing things out and adding things up and Serena’s impressed at the speed she’s going. She tries the sums in her head, gets to 700, feels like she’s done her best and watches Jason, who’s started writing things down now as well. The music ends and Jason looks at Bernie. “I’ve got 668,” he says, a little plaintively.

Bernie looks over at Serena again before saying, “I’ve got it on the nose.” Jason is put out, then, when he has to mark down her ten points, doesn’t bother announcing they’re only separated by one point now. Bernie bites her lip, excuses herself to the bathroom during the commercial break, which Jason obligingly does not fast forward through.

Serena’s tempted to go after Bernie, but tells herself that same old thing she always has to tell herself, to loosen her apron strings, to let people sort things out for themselves. Bernie comes back, her hands smelling of lavender soap, and she settles back on the couch.

Jason trounces Bernie at most of the letter rounds for the rest of the game, but she bests him at the numbers just about every time. He’s frustrated by it, and Serena can tell, but he’s learned that being a sore loser gets him a lecture, so he’s trying to hide it. The conundrum pops up, and Serena watches Bernie mouth words to herself, trying to decipher _P O R T N I E C E_ , and Serena sees when she’s figured out the answer. Jason’s ahead enough that it doesn’t matter if she gets it, so Bernie says, quietly, “Reception,” and Jason drops his pencil.

“Jason,” Serena warns, but he looks up at her with a smile plastered on his face.

“It’s all right, Auntie Serena. I’ve still won - by twenty-two points. She’s not as easy to beat as you are.” With that small measure of success, he leaves the room, and Serena feels Bernie sag with relief. They got through it, no meltdowns, no yelling.

 

\- - -

 

Jason doesn’t emerge for the rest of the night and Bernie isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but Serena tries to reassure her that it’s fine. “He’s an adult, there are certain things he’ll just have to get used to. We can’t protect him from everything.” Bernie pauses slightly at the use of the word “we,” at the idea that she and Serena are a team when it comes to Jason. She finds she doesn’t want to run from that, finds the word warming her heart, making it clench. A silly smile makes its way to her face and Serena looks at her, confused. “What?”

Bernie just shakes her head, knows Serena will think she’s silly for being so affected by that tiny two-letter word, but it’s the best word she’s heard all night, including Jason’s nine-letter word during Countdown. She begs off home, though she would be happy enough to spend every minute not at work in Serena’s house.

“How’d you get so good at the numbers, anyway?” Serena asks as they’re standing by the door. Bernie knows she’s just prolonging the moment that Bernie will leave, and loves her for it. She shifts slightly, leans against the wall.

“In the field, you have to be able to add, multiply, divide rapidfire. 10ccs of this mixed with 100ccs of that over however many minutes, and you have to do it all quickly, make sure you’re not mixing anything that’ll kill anyone, make sure the amounts are all right. You learn to do maths fast, or people die.” She’s not often this candid with Serena, not about her time in the RAMC, anyway. Serena just looks at Bernie, eyes slightly wide, then her face relaxes into that look that seems to be reserved just for Bernie, when she’s revealed some part of herself that only makes Serena care for her more.

“Bet it seems a little trivial to be doing the Countdown games, then,” Serena offers and Bernie just shrugs, a gesture she does so often, because lifting her shoulder is easier than saying the difficult things that come to mind.

“It’s nice to be able to do maths quickly and have it not mean anything for once,” she says, and wishes for all the world she hadn’t insisted on going home, because it would be so easy to just fall into bed with Serena, to spend the rest of the night whispering the difficult truths of her life in the army. But she doesn’t want to scare Serena off, thinks it’s rather too early to expect that she gets to sleep over every single night. So she says that she has a plant that is missing her, and she’ll see them both on the weekend.

“It’s Countdown marathon on the weekend,” Serena says, laughing at Bernie’s wide-eyed face. “Maybe we can team up against Jason. I’ll do the letters, you do the numbers.”

“I hardly think you’ll take him in the letter rounds, _Auntie_ ,” Bernie counters and laughs at Serena right back. Serena kisses her then, and Bernie thinks she’ll never tire of the delicious awkwardness of being kissed mid-laugh. She laughs more than she ever has, wonders if Serena knows that. But she pulls her coat in tight, gives Serena one final peck on the lips, and ducks out the door.

 

\- - -

 

The next morning at breakfast, Jason is very serious. He pours his orange juice and sits in his usual chair across from Serena, but doesn’t reach for the daily crossword puzzle. She can tell that he’s working up to say something to her, can only imagine what’s on his mind, but she patiently waits for him to sort out what it is he’s going to say. And then he pulls out a notecard. She thinks he’s seen her make notes before giving speeches, maybe he’s adopted this technique.

“Auntie Serena,” he begins, and moves aside his plate so he can fold his hands in front of him.

“Yes, Jason,” she says, putting aside the newspaper, giving him her full attention.

“I think you should break up with Bernie.” He slides the top notecard to the back and Serena has to stop herself from visibly rolling her eyes. Why he needed a notecard with just that written on it is beyond her.

“Why’s that, Jason?” she asks, sipping her coffee. She is glad, at least, that he waited until she got some amount of caffeine into her system.

“I just think she doesn’t quite understand our routine. She makes us late in the mornings, and in the night, I can hear her talking sometimes, and it keeps me awake.” He slides another notecard to the back.

“What if I set an earlier alarm on the nights she spends here, and I’ll tell her to keep it down when - when you’re asleep?” She almost says “when we’re in bed together,” but the sexual overtones of that don’t seem quite right for this particular conversation. Additionally, Bernie is never the loud one in those cases.

Jason seems to consider these words, and Serena would love to know what he’s thinking. “I just worry, Auntie Serena, that she doesn’t fit.” He takes a sip of juice and looks at her with his piercing stare. She tries to find the words to make him tell her what’s really wrong.

“Jason, please tell me what’s wrong with Bernie. I won’t have her here if that’s not what you want, but I think you aren’t being honest with me.” She puts on her sternest voice, the one that made Elinor quake in her boots as a child, the one Edward called her “matron” tone.

“She’s better than me at numbers,” he says, so quiet she can barely hear him, but knows what it is he’s said. She has to bite back a laugh, knows that’s exactly the wrong thing to do. He looks up at her. “Maths is one of the things I’m best at, along with time-keeping and list-making. I don’t like when people are better at things than me.”

Serena wonders briefly if Bernie was right to let Jason win. “Do you know, Bernie’s also better than me at some things? She’s much calmer in a crisis, and she can whistle.” She gives a small smile to Jason. “But she’s not very good at saying how she’s feeling, which is something you are very good at. And she’s definitely not good at word games. You beat her at trivia almost every time at the pub.”

Serena watches Jason take in these words, can almost imagine he’s sorting through them in his mind, like a temp at an office, filing them away for further analyzing later. “I’m also always on time, except when it’s her fault. She’s not very good at being punctual,” he says, and Serena finally lets herself laugh a little bit.

“Maybe it’s good Bernie is so handy with numbers, maybe she needs to feel like she wins at something, especially on the days she’s running late, or when she can’t remember who built the Tower of London.” The irony of the situation isn’t lost on Serena, as she tells her nephew the very things Bernie said about him not days earlier.

He nods, after a bit. “You may be right, Auntie. You may be right. I suppose she can come over this weekend after all, then.” Serena feels a little weak at his acceptance, grateful that this situation was mitigated so quickly.

“What if Countdown is just our thing, Jason? We can watch World’s Strongest Man with Bernie, or those historical shows you like? And then we keep Countdown just for us.” Her tone is conspiratorial, she wants him to know how important he is to her, that she’ll always be happy to make adjustments to her life if it will keep him happy. She starts to gather the paper together, to straighten up the table before they leave for the day.

“And Bernie will have to leave the room if it’s on?” he looks at his aunt hopefully and Serena feels her heart bursting with affection for him.

“And Bernie will have to leave the room if it’s on,” she affirms, thinking he might use it as a tactic to get Bernie out of the way if she irritates him, but thinks she’ll cross that bridge when they come to it. “That doesn’t mean that’s the only thing we watch when she’s over here. I want to spend time with her too,” she reminds Jason, who rolls his eyes without trying to hide it.

“Yes, yes, I know that. After all, she is your _girlfriend._ ” He says it with no real bite to his voice, just a smile on his face, and Serena catches him in a quick hug. She relishes the feeling of his hands coming around her back, knows she is privileged indeed for this kind of interaction. “We’ll have to do our Countdown marathon some other night, then, I suppose.” Serena nods into his shoulder, reassures him that they’ll find the time.

“Right then, off to work we go,” she says, and Jason leads them out the door.

“You know, I think Bernie could watch the funny Countdown with us. I don’t care if she wins that one,” he tosses over his shoulder and Serena takes the peace offering for what it is, holds it in her heart and can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Because [missparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker) said "I want one where they watch [Countdown] and it turns out Bernie is a whiz at numbers and is better than Jason and he tells Serena they have to break up" and I said "okay"


End file.
